Friday, September 23, 2022
Helen was born in Wardle, England, November 14, 1863. Her father was a Wesleyan minister who decided, when their daughter was about twelve-years-old, to immigrate to America. The family first settled in Mississippi and later moved to Wisconsin.
Early in her life, Helen had shown great love for music, and great skill. Her parents did their best to find good vocal teachers for their daughter, and her vocal expertise increased.
In 1904, an opportunity arose in Seattle, Washington for Helen to write about music for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. After four years, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity arose: Helen was invited to further her musical studies in Germany.
While studying abroad, she fell in love with a wealthy European and they got married. How are you doing, Helen? Very well, indeed! So it seemed. Until tragedy struck. She was rapidly losing her eyesight. When she became totally blind—her husband abandoned her. Helen would struggle with loneliness and various heartaches throughout the rest of her long life.
Her soul, “weary and troubled,” blind Helen returned to America, “no light in the darkness” could she see. How are you doing, Helen? I'm lonely, afraid, blind, and abandonned--how do you think I'm doing? But her Savior had her graven on his heart, and she could still sing. Looking full in the wonderful face of her Savior, she travelled widely, singing in churches throughout the Midwest. During these years, Helen was hired to teach voice at Moody Bible Institute.
When she was fifty-five years old, Helen heard someone say something about her eyes--almost insulting--that had a huge impact on her mind and imagination: "So then, turn your eyes upon Him, look full into His face and you will see that the things of earth will acquire a strange new dimness."
“I stood still,” Helen later recalled, “and singing in my soul and spirit was the chorus:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
She continued her account, saying that there was “…not one conscious moment of putting word to word to make rhyme, or note to note to make melody. The verses were written the same week, after the usual manner of composition, but,” she added, “nonetheless dictated by the Holy Spirit.”
Now elderly, lonely, and infirm—and blind—Helen became acquainted with her neighbor, a young man named Doug Goins and his parents, Paul and Kathryn Goins. “She was advanced in years and almost destitute, but she was an amazing person,” recalled Doug. “She made a great impression on me as a junior high child because of her joy and enthusiasm. Though she was living on government assistance in a sparse bedroom, whenever we’d ask how she was doing, she would reply, ‘I’m doing well in the things that count.’” One day, the Goins invited her to dinner. “We had never entertained a blind person before,” said Kathryn, “…despite her infirmities, she was full of life.”
“She was always composing hymns,” said Kathryn. “She had no way of writing them down, so she would call my husband at all hours, and he’d rush down and record them before she forgot the words.”
Helen had a cheap plastic keyboard by her bed, at which she spent her days playing, singing—and, in her sorrows—sometimes crying. “One day, God is going to bless me with a great heavenly keyboard,” she’d say. “I can hardly wait!”
Helen Lemmel, a member of Ballard Baptist Church, died in Seattle on November 1, 1961, thirteen days before her 98th birthday; she had written nearly 500 hymns. Due to her extreme poverty, her remains were cremated and nobody seems to know where they were disposed of. No matter. Those are things of earth. Strangely dim. Imagine her joy, when she turned her glorified eyes on her Savior and Look[ed} full in his wonderful face”!
How are you really doing? In the things that really count?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
2. Thro' death into life everlasting,
He passed, and we follow Him there;
O’er us sin no more hath dominion--
For more than conqu’rors we are!
3. His Word shall not fail you--He promised;
Believe Him, and all will be well:
Then go to a world that is dying,
His perfect salvation to tell!
Tuesday, January 25, 2022
"One road leads home and a thousand roads lead into the wilderness." CS Lewis
I'm a little giddy as I joyfully relaunch the Oxford Creative Writing Master Class for Spring, 2022. Boris Johnson just announced the lifting of travel restrictions to the UK (for we unvaxed, all we need is a negative Covid test, but no ten-day quarantine, and mask mandate ending).
I've been asked, what is the OCWMC? I love that question! Here's an inside peek at just what transpires on this writing and literary tour of middle England. (click on OCWMC to learn more about joining me this spring)."Drive left. Look right! God, help me to do this right--I mean, correct!" So I tell myself and pray in the days and hours before leading another group of aspiring writers on the Oxford Creative Writing Master Class. At Heathrow, I warily circle the nine-passenger rental van and then lunge into the driver's seat on the right side, murmuring to myself to keep the vehicle on the left side of the road and a weather eye to the Bentleys, Minis, red buses, and black cabbies bearing down on my right side. Though it is not my first rodeo (not to be construed as a cliche; it is a metaphor chosen precisely to reflect how it feels swerving around about every frantically encircling roundabout intersection), I have driven in the UK on the wrong side of the vehicle--and the road--over many years now. But I still pray earnestly before loading the van with precious human cargo and braving the blaring streets, curvaceous back roads, and bustling motorways of Britain.
And then there's the matter of my talking--while driving (whilst motoring, to be more colloquial). One previous OCWMC participant, her hand trembling, passed me an almost illegible note on which she had scrawled out a plea for me to stop using hand gestures as I talk--and drive. "Please, please, keep both hands on the wheel," she implored me (I nodded, looking down at the clutch and gear shifter, wondering just how I was supposed to do that when every vehicle in the UK seems to be equipped with a manual transmission). As I teach my master class writers the evil of exaggerating language, I will avoid pronouncing it "miraculous," but it is a significant answer to prayer, with many instances of divine intervention, that I have never had an accident whilst motoring in Britain (okay, a few close calls; every one of them, I am morally certain, not my fault, like the one en route from London to Oxford opening day of the master class when a raven-colored Peugeot nearly strafed the side of us on the M-40, clearing my arteries, invigorating my vocabulary, and making me still more grateful).
Though our culture persists in shrieking the mantra, "There are many roads," or in effect, "Take whatever road feels good. There is no wrong side of the road." Imagine driving or writing that way. Made in the image of God, we all know at the deepest level of our being that there is only one road that leads to heaven. "One road leads home and a thousand roads lead into the wilderness," as CS Lewis put it. Left or right, O the pain of those thousand roads. No one gets to heaven by scrupulously following the right path, the path of self-improvement and good works; or from swerving left, following his heart and doing what he feels.
If not to the right or the left, where are we to keep our eyes? If there's only one way, The Way, how are we to get on--and keep on--the road? There's no equivocation. Nor is there any alternate route. The Word of God makes the path of life plain. Abandon all hope in ourselves and "Gaze upon the beauty of the Lord." It is precisely what we were made for. We are designed to keep our eyes straight ahead, to "Fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith." We do this because by his finished work on the cross in place of sinners and his righteousness imputed to those same sinners' specific account, Christ is alone the path to life; in his presence there is fullness of joy; at his right hand their are pleasures forevermore (Psalm 16). God alone places us by his grace on the right road--and he alone keeps us on it. It's a gloriously wonderful road. All other roads lead into the wilderness.
Aspiring writers, Lewis and Tolkien enthusiasts, Anglophiles, lovers of church history, of architecture, of music, of beauty of all kinds--join me on the OCWMC in March 2022! Space is limited and there's not much time. You will not regret this. One recent writer/graduate put it this way, "The Oxford Creative Writing Master Class was above and beyond my wildest dreams. I learned so much about writing, history, and theology. OCWMC has truly changed my life."
Douglas Bond, author of more than thirty books, directs the Oxford Creative Writing Master Class, and he is copy editor for authors and publishers. Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org
Thursday, January 6, 2022
My life has been shaped in significant ways by the lives of men and women whom I look up to. Like it or not, this is true of everyone of us. "Hero-worship exists," wrote Thomas Carlyle, "has existed, and will forever exist, universally, among mankind." We were made for worship, ultimately the worship of God, but we all "worship" certain people. Tragically, in the modern world, hero worship has degenerated into celebrity worship, the worship of men and women who worship themselves, and have spent their lives trying to get the rest of the world to do the same. True heroes are heroes in large part because they didn't worship themselves. They lived for something larger than themselves.
In the unfolding story of redemption in the Bible, we meet some great heroes, or at least some men and women who had heroic moments in their lives: David slaying Goliath, Daniel and the three Jewish exiles standing fearlessly before powerful and capricious politicians, Jesus' mother and the other women who remained at the foot of Jesus' cross, while most of the men high-tailed it in the tumbleweed.
While unpacking my books the other day--most of them written by my heroes--I pulled out a leather volume gifted to me by one of my students, Sermons by Hugh Latimer, Sometime Bishop of Worcester. I try to keep several books going in various genre; I had recently finished reading Thomas Boston's Crook in the Lot (blog post forthcoming) and was looking for a spiritual classic. Sermons preached by Latimer, the Knox of England, would be just the thing. What's not to look up to in a man who fearlessly took his stand against lecherous King Henry VIII, an overfed monarch whose favorite response to anyone who didn't bow to his every whim was, “Off with his head”?
Henry VIII had called Latimer to be royal chaplain in January of 1530; now in such close proximity to the king, Latimer had ample reasons to fear the worst. Warned by a courtier to “Speak as he speaks,” saintly Latimer entered the service of one of the most notorious monarchs, responsible for beheading two of his six wives (he divorced the rest, save one who outlived him). Over 50,000 people had reasons to mourn the loss of someone who died at the command of this tyrant, including notables such as Thomas More, and William Tyndale.
Being chaplain to Henry was as likely to result in Latimer losing his head as it was to encounter drizzle in London. Understandably, Latimer treaded softly during his first weeks in court, justifying his reticence to speak on the basis “that prudence is necessary.” But weeks turned into months, and Latimer felt increasingly uncomfortable about not speaking with the king about the condition of his soul.
Then one day in November, while reading in the early church fathers, Latimer came across this by Augustine, “He who for fear of any power hides the truth, provokes the wrath of God to come upon him, for he fears men more than God.” Smitten, Latimer read on; this from Chrysostom, “he is not only a traitor to the truth who openly for truth teaches a lie, but he also who does not pronounce and show the truth that he knoweth.”
The good chaplain later wrote of these rebukes, “They made me sore afraid,” they “troubled and vexed me grievously in my conscience.” He resolved to declare the truth as taught in Holy Scripture, though he knew that it would most likely cost him his life. “I had rather suffer extreme punishment,” he wrote, “than be a traitor unto the truth.” Boldly, Latimer set his pen to paper.
“Your Grace, I must show forth such things as I have learned in Scripture, or else deny Jesus Christ. The which denying ought more to be dreaded than the loss of all temporal goods… honor, and all manner of torments and cruelties, yea, and death itself, be it ever so shameful and painful.” I would have avoided giving Henry ideas. But holy Latimer was in earnest.
One of the first things he raised with the king spoke directly to the heart of the Reformation, Sola Scriptura: “Your Grace promised by your last proclamation that we should have the Scripture in English. Let not the wickedness of worldly men divert you from your godly purpose and promise.” This was not the way to speak to the Tudor tyrant, not if you valued your life.
Latimer was just warming up. Critical of many of Henry’s clerical advisors, Latimer said they “hinder the Gospel of Christ,” that through these false teachers it was really Henry who “would send a thousand men to hell ere [he] send one to heaven.” Undaunted by Henry’s hubris, Latimer pressed on, “I pray to God that your Grace may do what God commandeth, and not what seemeth good in your own eyes.”
Men who frowned at the wrong moment lost their heads in Henry’s court. But Latimer was undaunted. Confronting the king's mistaken understanding of his temporal authority over the church, Latimer spoke of the two spheres of authority and charged Henry, self-declared supreme head of the Anglican Church, to “make not a mingle-mangle of them.” A century later 18,000 Christians would lose their lives for denying that the king of England was the head of the Church of Scotland. For now, Latimer lived on, preaching regularly before the king. After one bold sermon, a friend told Latimer, “We were convinced you would sleep tonight in the Tower.” Latimer replied, “The king’s heart is in the hands of the Lord.”
Impossible as it seems, Latimer survived Henry, but in October of 1555, by order of Henry’s Catholic daughter, Bloody Mary, Latimer and his friend and fellow preacher, Nicholas Ridley, were bound to the stake before Balliol College, Oxford, where Wycliffe once taught. As the flames were lit, Latimer said to his friend, “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. We shall this day light such a candle, by God’s grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.”
Stories like these fire my blood, infuse new gospel resolve in my veins. They make me want to "play the man." I feel much the same way while singing lines from a hymn of John Newton's, “Let the world deride or pity,/We will glory in the Name." This is why, more than ever, we need, and our children need, the very best heroes--like Newton and Hugh Latimer.
Eager for more inspiring words and deeds from Latimer, I opened the little volume of sermons and began reading. As I read, I came across a sermon he delivered to young King Edward VI, protestant Christian king who was crowned after his power-grubbing father went to his reward. March 8, 1549, while instructing the young king in the Bible's words about marriage, Latimer attempted to admonish the adolescent boy about women and how to avoid "wantonness and the inclinations of the flesh and vain affections."
Latimer pressed on, contrasting instruction on marriage from the Old and the New Covenants, "Christ limiteth unto us one wife only; and it is a great thing to rule one wife rightly and ordinately." I paused in my reading. I wished Latimer had not used the verb rule. Why? Because it's not the Bible's verbal command to husbands. To be sure, Paul admonishes wives to submit to their husbands (Ephesians 5:22-33), but nowhere does he command husbands to make them submit by ruling over their wives. After making the declarative statement that husbands are the head of their wives, Paul did not use the imperative verb to rule--husbands, rule your wives. What did he command husbands? "Husbands, love your wives (emphasis added), even as Christ loved the church, and gave himself for it" (5:25). I pondered Latimer's choice of words. Why not use the Bible's word, love? But maybe I was being too picky. So, I read on.
"For a woman is frail, and proclive unto all evils: a woman is a very weak vessel, and may soon deceive a man and bring him unto ruin. Many examples we have in holy scripture." And then, beginning with Eve in the garden, Latimer proceeded to describe Jezebel's deceptive perversions. These examples are, of course, true. But as I read, my mind raced to the far greater number of examples of men in the Bible who had a proclivity toward monstrously evil behavior, and, conversely, my mind rehearsed the significant number of examples of godly women throughout the Bible's pages: Hannah, the Shunamite woman, Rahab, Abigail, Naomi, Ruth, the Proverbs-31 woman, Jesus' mother, Elizabeth, Mary and Martha, Priscilla, Eunice, Lois--my list grew longer.
Latimer must not have been thinking of these examples--and he didn't know my mother, or the love of my life, and the many other godly woman whose lives have had such powerful gospel influences on me through the years--and whom I consider to be heroines of the faith. There are so many wonderful examples of godly women throughout Church history that one Scottish theologian, speaking about child raising, quipped, "Give them a good Presbyterian mother and any old thing will do for a father."
In light of all this, and in light of some of my own afflictions and recent deliverances, Latimer's over generalization about women troubled me. But it also reminded me that all our heroes have feet of clay. We must choose the best ones, bearing in mind that no fallen human being--male or female--is flawless. We must be discerning. And we must keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith. During his earthly ministry, Jesus always dealt tenderly with women, often coming to their defense when they were being maligned or dismissed. His words, unlike Latimer's, were full of honor, compassion, and forgiveness toward women.
What are we to conclude? Only one "hero" got everything right--the Lord Jesus. Every other hero, however fearless before tyrants, will get at least some things wrong. Only when we are immersed in the Logos, the Word made flesh, Christ as he is revealed on every page of the Bible, will we develop wise discernment about what to celebrate and emulate, and what to critique and reject. I want more of Latimer's boldness, his fearless proclamation of the Word of God before wicked and powerful men--regardless of the consequences. And I want more of Jesus' tenderness and compassion toward the weak and powerless--be they men or women.
Douglas Bond is author of more than thirty books, including his latest release The Hobgoblins, a novel on John Bunyan, The Resistance set in enemy occupied Normandy, and many others. Two-time Grace Award book finalist, Bond is also lyricist for New Reformation Hymns; he directs the Oxford Creative Writing Master Class, is editor for other authors and publishers, is an award-winning teacher, speaker at conferences, and leader of Church history tours in Europe. Learn more at bondbooks.net